


heartbreak

by since_I_saw_vienna



Series: broken families and abandoned boys [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Adopted Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Character Study, Child Abandonment, Child Neglect, Fox Hybrid Floris | Fundy, Gen, Good Sibling Wilbur Soot, Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Phil is a Bad Dad, Protective Wilbur Soot, Sally is there too, Wilbur Soot Angst, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, baisically, fox hybrid sally, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:27:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29202057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/since_I_saw_vienna/pseuds/since_I_saw_vienna
Summary: Wilbur Soot has always worn his heart on his sleeve, and he can count every time it has left him with broken pieces.Or; 4 times Wilbur's heart breaks.
Relationships: Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: broken families and abandoned boys [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2151909
Comments: 17
Kudos: 375





	heartbreak

Wilbur Soot has always worn his heart on his sleeve. 

Phil had always remarked how different he and Techno were, despite parading around as self proclaimed twins. Technoblade has always been quiet and reserved where Wilbur is loud and outspoken. ( _sometimes he wonders if that is why his father had always liked Techno more_ )

Wilbur is naive optimism and big dreams and booming laughter. Wilbur sees the best in what is, and he sees the possibilities of what _could_ be. This is how it has always been, simply a part of what makes him Wilbur. And Wilbur Soot has never shied away from showing his emotions, unearthing them in song or poetry or simply by crying into his father's arms. 

The thing about keeping your heart in a glass cage, though, is that eventually it's bound to be shattered. People will always throw stones in glass houses. 

Wilbur Soot has always worn his heart on his sleeve, and he can count every time it has left him with broken pieces. 

The first time Wilbur feels his heart break, he is thirteen. It comes in the form of a father who is gone just a little too often, in a brother ( _a twin_ ) who leaves him behind. 

Sitting in an empty house with his three year old brother, Wilbur is not afraid to admit that he is scared. But the pain in his chest feels far too great to unpack, so he simply sits and gently shushes the toddler in his arms. 

The house is so big and so empty, his birthday is in a week and Wilbur wonders if his father even remembers the date. Wilbur is thirteen, and his heart breaks. 

The second time, Wilbur is seventeen. Tommy, his bright, brilliant boy, is seven. They are still brothers in name, but somewhere along the way Wilbur became more of a father than Phil ever was. 

Wilbur wonders briefly when Tommy had stopped calling Phil dad. It shouldn't have been too shocking, he supposes. Phil was largely absent for the better part of half of his life. ( _He tries not to remember the look of shock on his father's face when his youngest son could not recognize him. When he referred to him as Phil. He tries not to remember the grim sense of satisfaction he had felt._ )

Technoblade became a distant idol, someone Tommy fawned over in passing. He's always so excited for his family's visits, so Wilbur tries to stifle the bitterness in his stomach. Phil at least returned for his youngest's birthdays. It was better than he had managed for his eldest, Wilbur muses dryly to himself. But he can't find it in him to be too bitter, not when Tommy is so excited. 

It is on one such birthday, Tommy's seventh, that Wilbur's heart breaks for the second time. The seven year old had sat vigilantly by the door all day, clutching a drawing that he wanted to show his father and brother. They never arrived. 

The boy had looked up at Wilbur with those wide, baby blue eyes filled with tears and swimming with confusion, his brows knitted. "It's my birthday," he whispers, still clutching the crayon drawing. 

Wilburs heart seizes in his chest, tears threatening to spill over but held at bay because if there is one person that Wilbur can stay strong for, it's Tommy. He pulls the child closer, fingers sliding through his hair. "I know," he whispers. 

That night, Wilbur cries. He cries because the pain in his chest is not for himself, but for his bright, beautiful baby brother. His wonderful baby brother who never deserved this. He cries because even if Phil had left him, he had _never_ been there for Tommy. He cries because Tommy doesn't even have the soft memories of his father's gentle hugs or firm assurance. Tommy has nothing but an empty house and a brother who was never old enough to take care of him.

Wilbur is twenty two when he feels his next heartbreak. 

Tommy is eleven, his younger brother has grown bright and sharp, and Wilbur loves him more than he has ever loved anything else. Phil has not been home in over a year, and they have long since stopped waiting by the door for him. Wilbur is young, he is charismatic and kind and restless.

Sally matches him in every way. She is stunning and kind and witty, her mind as sharp as his own. They are two kindred blades. Her hair is red tinted orange like a painted sunset, and Tommy loves her almost immediately. She loves the ocean just as Wilbur always has, and they daydream about exploring it together. 

Wilbur loves Tommy more than anything, but Sally is a close second. 

They meet when they are both merely twenty. She stays with them for nearly two years, and Wilbur loves her with every breath he breathes. The house no longer feels empty as she holds his glass heart with gentle hands and sets him aflame. 

Wilbur is twenty two when Sally leaves him. 

She does not say goodbye, simply slipping out of their back door with the things she can carry. The note simply reads _'I can't stay here any longer. do not look for me.'_ and Wilbur's heart breaks for the third time in his life, slipping through Sally's careful fingers. 

Tommy cries for a long time after Sally leaves, he misses her stories and the way they would sing him to sleep together. Wilbur only manages to hold himself together for Tommy. 

He wonders a lot where it all went wrong. Had he been too clingy? Too overbearing? Was he boring? 

In his heart, Wilbur knows the answer. He knows it as well as he knows himself. Because Sally and him are one in the same, and they are wanderers at heart. Sally would never have stayed with him, he thinks he might have known that all along. He is still devastated.

Wilbur is still twenty two when he meets his son. 

Tommy is twelve now, and they have moved on as well as they can. They still feel the ache of Sally's absence, they feel it in the way her spot on the sofa is always vacant, the way her chair at the table is now gone. But they continue, and Wilbur is happy to have his younger brother. 

It is raining when he hears the knocking, and Tommy is lounging on the couch while he writes music at the kitchen counter. The sun is setting, and everything is dusted in that red-orange color that can only ever remind him of Sally. His chest twinges, but Wilbur rises to open the door. No one stands on the other side but a basket and a note. The swooping cursive letters feel like a punch to the gut. 

' _Dearest Wilbur,_

_I know it is selfish of me to ask anything of you, but I am not fit for this task. I know my departure was abrupt, and for that I am sorry, but I am not fit to be a mother, Wilbur. He is yours, please take him. His name is Floris._

_Tell Tommy I'm sorry,_

_Sally'_

Wilbur reads the words over and over, nausea swirling in his stomach. His chest aches and he can't tell if it's anger or sickness or heartache. He looks down at the basket and grasps it with shaking hands. 

His fur is soft and orange like Sally's hair, but not quite as red. He looks far more fox-like than Sally, too, but the ears and tail are unmistakably her's. His eyes are open and wide and _oh._ He has Wilbur's eyes. They are chestnut brown and rich like pools of copper, and Wilbur almost cries because _this is his son._ Wilbur is a father. His heart feels warm, suddenly full and yet aching all at once. He grips the basket tightly, and makes his way inside. 

(Later, he sits at the table with Tommy, fox cub nestled in his arms, and Tommy is scrutinizing him with baby blue eyes. "What name did she give him?"

Wilbur blinks, thrown off by the wording. "Uh- Floris. She named him Floris."

Tommy is silent for a few minutes before shaking his head, "that's a dumb name. Kid's gonna get bullied 'n shit."

"What do you propose, then?" The older asks, a hint of amusement in his tone.

Tommy hums contemplatively before grinning, smile almost feral. "Fundy. I think we should call him Fundy." And Wilbur smiles.)

(Even later, Wilbur sits with his son under a tree humming a gentle tune. 

"Dad?"

"Yeah, kiddo?" 

"Can you tell me about my mom?" The question is small and quiet as his son fiddles with some flowers in his paws, brown eyes trained on the task.

Wilbur hums, fingers brushing through the younger's fur. "Well, your mom's name was Sally," he pauses, closing his eyes and leaning against the tree. "Sally the salmon," he adds, a little smile curling over his lips. 

"My mom was a salmon?" Fundy asks, voice incredulous.

He nods, grinning, "yep, and she had the shiniest red scales, you know? Red and green." His mind flits briefly to a pair of emerald eyes. "She stayed in the pond near the house, but one day it rained too hard and the place flooded, and Sally swam all the way to the river."

"She left?"

"Yeah. Yeah, she did. She swam all the way upstream."

"Why? Didn't she love us?"

"Yeah, bud, she loved us. But I- I think the pond was just too small for her, you know? Not enough room to swim. She really liked to swim, bein' a fish and all." 

"That makes sense, I guess," Fundy agrees, still twisting flowers together. Wilbur ruffles his hair with a little grin.)

Wilbur's fourth heartbreak comes when he is twenty six. 

Tommy is sixteen now, he is tall and strong and Wilbur is so proud of him. His son has grown up so quickly, he now stands close to Tommy's height, even sporting facial hair in his human appearance. It was jarring how quickly his little champion had grown, but Wilbur supposes he should have anticipated it with the hybrid genes. He is so proud of his boys. Wilbur loves Tommy and Fundy more than anything else. 

As he stands on the walls of the nation he's built, Wilbur grins. He loves L'manberg almost as much as he loves his boys. His country, the country he built to keep them safe. 

They left the year prior, when Tommy was fifteen and Fundy matched his age in appearance. He'd decided the empty house had held them long enough, and so he took his boys and he left. He had not seen Phil since Tommy turned seven, not outside of brief visits. He has not seen him at all since Fundy was born. 

Wilbur stands over his country, and he is filled with love. 

He supposes it makes sense, then, that this be his fourth heartbreak. Wilbur stares over the landscape in a daze, but the only thing that holds his gaze is the _fire._ It burns orange and red and Wilbur thinks he might throw up. His son, _his son._ He stands atop the rubble of the walls built to keep him safe, burning flag raised above him. Wilbur stitched that flag with Niki long into the night, painstakingly lining up fabric. He feels his heart splinter and shatter as Tommy tugs on his sleeve, tears are dripping down his face. Wilbur has always worn his heart on his sleeve, and right now it is bleeding.

As Wilbur flees the country he built, his younger brother, _his Tommy_ pulling him along, he can feel his heart crack right down the middle. Fundy lays behind him, and his boys are separated, and his son has betrayed him. _Betrayed, betrayed, betrayed._

Wilbur feels his heart die with L'manberg, with Fundy, with Tommy's childhood. _They were supposed to be safe here._

Wilburs glass heart shatters for a final time, and the pieces are strewn so far that he doesn't think he'll ever be able to put them back together. They are scattered throughout L'manberg, strewn about the floor of Phil's house, resting at the bottom of the river. Wilbur breaks, and this time there is no fixing him. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is largely unedited and I wrote it mostly in one sitting so enjoy,, comments are appreciated! I love reading them.


End file.
